From the Very First Day
by Ellie Biel
Summary: A series of five drabbles and ficlets ranging from the first stage of attraction through commitment, written for the stagesoflove community on LJ. WolframYuuri
1. Cupid Used His Fists

Stage 1: Attraction

* * *

Wolfram hated him on first sight. He was outraged at the way his mother fawned over Yuuri and envious of how Konrad smiled at him indulgently. He despised the new demon king for having a human mother, a filthy commoner. The sparks in Yuuri's eyes didn't take him by surprise. Being struck across the left cheek in anger did.

He demanded Yuuri take it back and his face grew redder with each refusal. That Yuuri didn't know what it meant made Wolfram even angrier, but what he hated most of all was how glad he was that the proposal stood.


	2. Whatever It Takes

Stage 2: Romance

* * *

So Yuuri had noticed. It was a minor thing, but he'd noticed, and to Wolfram that meant something. It seemed that little wuss actually _liked_ it and had even missed it. It was something to think about.

Wolfram did think about it. Of course Yuuri had a knack for getting into situations that required Wolfram's intervention. It was disgraceful how often he had to put himself between Yuuri and another, but it was a matter of pride to Wolfram. Yuuri was completely blind to how inappropriate his actions were.

It didn't matter where they were, whether at sea or on land, with strangers, commoners, or even members of his own family. There had been that night at the beach, and Wolfram had seen how close Yuuri and his brother Konrad had been sitting. It was up to him to remind everyone, especially Yuuri, just who was betrothed to the undeserving king.

Once Yuuri had finally done his duty and obtained Morgif and they'd returned from that vile journey, Wolfram reminded him. Yuuri had noticed that, too, and then had run off screaming like a girl before disappearing from the kingdom again. The moment he returned he already had a bunch of women lusting after him and the worst part wasn't that Yuuri allowed it but that he seemed to enjoy it.

Wolfram had made sure they kept their hands to themselves, but it was clear that Yuuri had been gone too long and had forgotten. Once they got to Covenant Castle Wolfram began reminding him again, and if Yuuri thought throwing him out of his bed was going to make a difference, he'd learn soon enough that it would take a lot more than that.

It was working, too. Sometimes Yuuri was so easy to figure out. Calling him a wimp never failed to get a reaction. It didn't matter where they were, who was around, or even if Yuuri thought he was just talking in his sleep. If that's what it was going to take to distract Yuuri when he was in danger of doing something inappropriate, Wolfram was willing to go that far.

It was, after all, a matter of honor.


	3. Unsheathing the Sword

Stage 3: Passion

* * *

Yuuri gripped Morgif's hilt and swung a few times. "I don't know, Morgif, maybe if I used you as a baseball bat you wouldn't be so useless." The sword groaned at him while Wolfram stood nearby scowling at him. "And I don't know why you have to be so grumpy about this," Yuuri pointed out. "You're the one who wanted to train me."

"Lord Weller was supposed to be the one training you," Wolfram retorted. "But someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't-"

"I know, I know," Yuuri said, his voice rivaling Morgif's grunts for pity. "You don't want me to flirt with anyone."

Wolfram's sword was out of its sheath in a flash. "So you _admit_ it." He brought his blade up between them. "Who is it this time, you unfaithful wimp?"

"Hey, hey, I didn't say that. I just know how you-" he jumped back as Wolfram's blade moved in an arc across his middle, the tip catching the fabric and pulling a thread so that the jacket bunched up on one side. "Aw, now I'm going to have to listen to a lecture on taking better care of my school clothes."

"And you should take better care of where your eyes are," Wolfram shouted. "Fight me, you wimp!"

"Don't call me a wimp!" Yuuri brought up Morgif to clash against Wolfram's sword. He saw the smirk on Wolfram's lips and swung the blade around again. "I'm tired of hearing you say that!"

"Then stop being one." Wolfram deflected with his sword and stepped back. "You're never going to improve if you don't fight me like you mean it."

Yuuri growled as he swung his sword overhead and charged at Wolfram. He knew he was outmatched but sometimes Wolfram made him angry. It wasn't his fault he'd reacted to Wolfram's insults about his mother the way he had and ended up engaged to a guy and he sure wouldn't mind if Wolfram would stop reminding him of their relationship every chance he got.

The sword was getting heavier but at least he could enjoy watching Wolfram take a few steps back. He wished he could say it was the force of Morgif's blade against Wolfram's sword that brought him low, but it was a rock half buried in the dirt.

He didn't care. "Good job, Morgif," he said. A chuckle came from his sword as Yuuri pointed it at Wolfram. "That's enough practice for me today." His eyes widened as he felt the side of Wolfram's blade press against the inside of his leg.

"One last lesson," Wolfram said between gritted teeth. "Down doesn't always mean out. I'd think you of all people would know that." He got to his feet and sheathed his sword. "And don't think you'll get out of it tomorrow. Gunter's already agreed to let you out early."

Yuuri was never so glad to see Wolfram leave. The blade hadn't cut him but he wished it had. It had felt hot against his leg, as if Wolfram had summoned the elements living in fire to settle against Yuuri's skin. Yuuri shuddered. "I think I need a bath."

He ignored Morgif's amused laughter and puckered lips. With any luck the lecherous sword would be the only witness to the sudden appearance of the tell-tale bulge in his pants.


	4. In the Pink

Stage 4: Intimacy

* * *

That was it, Yuuri decided when Wolfram's fist landed against his cheek. An hour before he'd gotten an elbow in the nose and he could still feel the ache from where Wolfram had kicked him in the hip as he slept. It was bad enough that Wolfram had become a permanent fixture in the room, but the bed was huge. You'd think there would be room for both of them.

Then there was Wolfram's snoring...

Yuuri rubbed his eyes. He was tired. A long day with Günter in the library followed by Gwendal dumping a stack of papers on his desk had been more exhausting than any baseball game, and for once he just wanted to sleep more than an hour at a time. If he rolled Wolfram over so the blond was lying on his side instead of his back, that might at least take care of the snoring.

Except moving Wolfram when he was sprawled out like that was like trying to push a sand bear uphill. He wedged his knee under Wolfram's leg and tried nudging him over only to hear Wolfram mumbling in his sleep. Yuuri gritted his teeth. "Stop calling me that," he muttered. There was no point yelling it at him; Wolfram could sleep through just about anything.

He got his hand under Wolfram's shoulder and pushed, but he didn't have any leverage in this position. If he got his entire arm under Wolfram, and worked at the opposite shoulder instead, he might have better luck.

For all the frilliness of the pink nightgown, the body beneath it was solid. Yuuri wasn't able to make any progress until he had managed to wriggle half his body beneath Wolfram and roll them both over. He felt overjoyed when it seemed to be working, but his elation was short lived when he realized that his arm was now firmly trapped under Wolfram.

"Oh, man," he groaned. "Can't I get a break?"

Wolfram's arm swung back but Yuuri caught it just before Wolfram's knuckles landed dangerously close to his eye. "Cut it _out_, Wolfram." He shoved Wolfram's hand away from him, gave one last useless tug at his trapped arm, and sighed in resignation as he tried to get comfortable. First he tried draping his arm over his ear, and then moved it to his hip. That worked for a while until Wolfram started to fidget again.

Yuuri made a sound of exasperation and clamped his fingers around Wolfram's wrist. When he got Wolfram's arm back where it belonged, he left his own there. At least Wolfram wouldn't be able to elbow him in the groin.

Except for the fact that his other arm was falling asleep, it was a lot more comfortable than being huddled on the edge of the bed, even when he had to hook his leg over Wolfram's to avoid being kicked.

When Wolfram blinked his eyes open several hours later, he realized a few things. First, the bed seemed much smaller than it had when he'd gone to sleep. Second, his backside felt much warmer than his front. Third, Yuuri was snoring – and right in his ear, and fourth, when he tried to lift his hand to push his hair out of his eyes, he realized his fingers were entwined with Yuuri's.

"Wimp." Although Wolfram's brows had furrowed as he muttered the insult, he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from curving into a smirk as his eyes fluttered shut again.

His eyes flew back open as he realized there was a fifth. Unless Yuuri had brought Morgif to bed with him last night, there was little question about what was poking Wolfram's hip through a thin layer of pink and lace.


	5. And Thou

Three sets of eyes were riveted on the wineglass that lay on its side, the deep red stain spreading across the white tablecloth and approaching the edge of the table.

One pair of eyes were wide and unblinking as they watched Yuuri's bandaged fingers reach over to grasp the glass gently by its stem and bring it to his lips to finish the little bit of wine that was left before setting it back down next to the silverware. While everyone else turned to look at Yuuri, who calmly shook out his linen napkin and patted it over the spilled wine, Wolfram's mouth opened and closed a few times but nothing came out.

Yuuri glanced to his right. "Hey, Wolfram," he said, gesturingatthe sleeve slowly soaking up more of the wine, "you might want to change out of that before the stain really sets. Like my mother always says, the longer you wait the harder it is to get rid of."

Wolfram opened his mouth again and then pushed his chair back abruptly and left the room. If Yuuri noticed the uncomfortable silence that followed he didn't act like it. He speared his fork into the meat on his plate and popped it into his mouth, chewing it slowly and enjoying the taste. There were a lot of things in this world that he couldn't abide by and even more he still barely understood, but he could still appreciate Doria's cooking.

He laughed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as Sangria bustled in to remove the soiled linen. A clean napkin was handed to him before she hustled right back out to the hallway, and Yuuri resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

Günter was dabbing at his eyes with the corner of his cloak and Gwendal and Konrad were exchanging meaningful glances. Yuuri seemed oblivious to Günter's sniffles and it wasn't until the royal advisor made a sound like a wounded animal that Gwendal pushed his chair back with even more force than Wolfram had used. Konrad took the cue and got to his feet.

"Your Highness."

"Yeah, Konrad?" Yuuri asked. He picked up one of the vegetables. "What's this one called again? It tastes a little like broccoli but it's kind of sweet. I wonder how it would taste if we mashed it up and spread it on toast." He looked up at Konrad. "Don't you think we should try it?"

"Whatever you'd like, Your Highness." Konrad smiled. Günter's sobbing had grown a little louder and Gwendal cleared his throat impatiently.

"Oh, and the bill for the dry cleaning of this tablecloth, can that be taken out of my salary or something?" He glanced over at Wolfram's glass as if realizing for the first time that he'd practically sent the blond from the room. "Hey, someone might want to move that somewhere safe. Wolfram will probably want to keep it."

Silence fell over the room again and Konrad returned to his seat. He hid his smile behind his napkin and picked up his silverware.

There was little conversation for the rest of the meal, but it was just as well because Yuuri remembered none of it. He felt pretty satisfied now but later he'd have to go and confess to his husband. He'd been the one to ask Lasagna, just before dinner, to set down the plate of warm bread right after Wolfram had taken his first sip. He'd felt his cheeks grow warm as he'd asked if she'd please remember to move Wolfram's glass to a spot on the table right between them. It took so little to rile him up that Yuuri could have made his own set of wagers about Wolfram knocking it over with his elbow.

The customs sure were strange in this land but Yuuri wished they'd give him a _little_ credit. After an unplanned engagement followed by an equally accidental duel (and he was trying to forget that second duel he'd initiated), not to mention hours of having history crammed into his brain by an enthusiastic Günter, didn't they think that if he learned nothing else, he'd have made sure he was well aware of what constituted a marriage ceremony in Shin Makoku?

For all Wolfram had put him through, Yuuri thought he could wait a little longer before he let him know. Yuuri had known exactly what he was doing when he'd used his left hand to pick up the stem of the glass. He'd known what he'd been promising when he took a sip from the same side that Wolfram's lips had touched.

And if Wolfram needed any convincing, Yuuri thought he might start by not kicking his spouse out of bed on their wedding night.


End file.
